The Peace Offering
by Pageturner94
Summary: The Horde gain control of a powerful portal, and attack Earth. First overconfident, they quickly realize their mistake when the humans lose thier patience. Before returning to Azeroth, the Horde perform one last act of malice: kidnap a human girl.
1. Prologue

**_A/N: The parts of this story that are set in Azeroth take place during Wrath of the Lich King (Thrall is still Warchief of the Horde, and Gorrosh is still Overlord of the Warsong Offensive) with some bits and pieces taken from Cataclysm (Thrall and Aggra are already together, and they have a son.) _**

**_Basically, the Warsong Offensive have returned to Durotor for a little R&R, and discover something that they never expected...  
><em>**

**_I'm not going to win any awards for accuracy, but, hey, this is just a fun story that I thought up one day :P_**

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Gorrosh, I have confirmed the portal functional," the scout grunted, holding his axe by his side. Behind him swirled the entrance to an unknown land; its purple shade was a startling contrast to the orange sand of their surroundings.

Gorrosh Hellscream, along with the small portion of the Warsong Offensive, cast eager glares at the portal. "This is the passage to greater opponents," he growled with a smile, relishing the idea of a new challenge. "And more land to conquer."

High Overlord Saurfang, Hellscream's chief adviser, stiffened beside him. "Have you forgotten our duties on Northrend," he demanded incredulously. "The Horde needs no more enemies, Gorrosh, at least until we have defeated our current ones. Besides, this is not your decision to make."

Gorrosh snarled at Saurfang's logic. "Yontar," he barked.

At the sound of his name, the adolescent orc shuffled forward uncomfortably, looking as though he knew what was coming his way. "Yes, Overlord?"

"What say you to this, boy? Does your father _really_ need to know what the Warsong Offensive does in its spare time?" The other members of the Horde chuckled tightly. As respected as Warchief Thrall was, his reluctance for war was not completely welcomed amongst them.

Yontar stared at Gorrosh with unreadable burgundy eyes. "If the Warsong Offensive is planning another invasion, then there will be no time that could possibly be considered spare."

Gorrosh's expression hardened at this small insult to his authority. Then a wicked smile spread across his face. He turned to face his small army of orcs, tauren and trolls. "You heard the boy," he declared. "There is no time to spare! For victory!"

"FOR THE HORDE," was the resounding reply.

Then Hellscream marched into the portal, followed by his fierce warriors, all screaming battle cries. Yontar made his way through the throng of bodies, and came up beside High Overlord Saurfang. "That wasn't what I meant," he muttered.

"I know," the veteran sighed. "But Gorrosh only hears what he wants."

* * *

><p>Chloe paced impatiently around her father's office, occasionally stopping to cringe at the terribly violent news footage that was playing on the flat screen TV. Being the sheltering father that he was, Ambassador Jeffrey Tyler had locked her inside while he discussed business in the other room, probably forgetting that she was probably worse off in here than in there. And Chloe, being the insightful daughter of a powerful man that <em>she<em> was, knew that "business" was just a delicate way of phrasing the planned extermination of the savage creatures that were waging war on the country.

The attacks had only started last week, but already the body count was over twenty soldiers. Their was so much speculation on the invaders - whether they were aliens, or the return of an ancient civilization - but nobody had any real idea what was going on, other than the fact that these things were angry, and extremely dangerous. Newspaper headlines read everything from, "Hulk Angry," to "Killer Cows Seek Revenge".

At first curious about her father's plans, Chloe had tried pressing her ear against the heavy wooden door, and of course not being able to hear squat. But now she was just annoyed. She was eighteen for God's sake, and just as affected by this invasion as everyone else on the planet! Still the only information that her father had shared with her was that he could end the conflict – a strategy that would not work against any of Earth's armies, but might appeal to the more primal culture of the invaders that they were facing.

She could just imagine how horribly wrong this could go…


	2. To Fight, or Not To Fight

**To Fight, or Not to Fight  
><strong>

"Humans," repeated Gorrosh in amusement, not for the first time that night. "_Humans!_ Gaha, what _**luck**_!" Yontar watched as those that surrounded him chuckled, if not a little tiredly. The Horde troops had set up camp in a heavily shaded forest – close to the portal just in case – and were preparing for tomorrow by the fire.

"Humans with superior weapons," added the old orc Hargrum, pressing a cloth to his lead punctured thigh. The firelight flickered violently across the wound, making it appear more impressive. He looked up from his leg and grinned, "Finally some fair competition."

"Speak for ya'self," mumbled Jaitlek from between his protruding tusks. "My spells have no affect in 'dis world." The mage rubbed his blue hands together to demonstrate the lack of magic that flowed between them.

"Get an axe, and quit complaining," Durka snapped irritably. She glanced back at Yontar, who was standing a distance behind the circle. He pretended not to notice the female orc's attention and continued to gaze at the fire. "Yontar," she hissed, "you haven't spoken since we've arrived."

He just nodded absently. Durka's lips tightened in response and she turned back towards the fire, her cheeks darkening.

"She means to be your mate you know," Saurfang whispered behind him. If Yontar hadn't spent so many years in Saurfang's company, he might have jumped at his silent approach. Instead he turned and walked towards him, and away from earshot of the group.

"She must not know me, then," he answered after a pause, humour in his voice. "Besides, her constant anger is…wearying."

"Better get used to it," the elder chuckled. "Or you'll be single a _long_ time."

Yontar smiled, leading his friend farther into the forest, afraid to risk anyone overhearing his next words.

"This attack is wrong," he blurted finally, "They are not the same humans as the ones on Azeroth. They have no concept of Alliance, or Horde. They have done nothing to us!"

"Spoken like a true son of Thrall," Saurfang said quietly. They were both surprised at the proud tone in his voice. Without another word, Saurfang lifted his right arm and unclasped his bracer, revealing a fresh gash on his forearm, the bloodstains barely visible in the darkness of the forest.

"I confronted him as soon as I realized this mistake, but," Saurfang paused to re-clad his arm, and then shrugged, "I am getting far too old for our disputes. There are whisperings amongst the tauren of course, but you know how they are; they dare not challenge Hellscream."

"But that's not the only thing," Yontar argued hesitantly. "I think we've underestimated them. I have a feeling he knows that too, but Gorrosh is just too stubborn to admit it. We've already lost."

The High Overlord scratched at his greying beard, looking thoughtful. "Gorrosh was always good with making sure that compromises are out of the question. They die, or we die. _We'll prove our superiority, or we'll die trying_."

"So… we're not surrendering. Maybe they might?"

"It seems the only option. For all our sakes, I hope they do."

And with that, all opinions about morality were silenced. The two orcs stomped back over to the fire and sat down amongst their kin, sharpening their weapons and snarling barbarically about being hungry for the violence that tomorrow would bring.

* * *

><p>"Okay, you've officially lost your mind," Chloe exclaimed, looking at her father with a disbelieving expression. "You're going to propose a sacrifice to placate an army of, what, <em>fifty<em> creatures? _This_ is the brilliant plan our world leaders have come up with?"

Ambassador Tyler gave his daughter a look that clearly was not amused. "Sarcasm does not solve anything," he told he tersely. "And from what we know about them, they are tribal forces. If they value anything, it's a good ol' fashion sacrifice."

"This is so inhumane," she muttered, falling back against the office's leather couch. "Why don't we just ask them what they want," she challenged.

The ambassador sighed. "In what language, hun?"

Chloe pretended not to hear. "Maybe their just scared, Dad. Confused. Do you really think that killing something in front of them will send the right message?"

This time it was her father's turn to fake deafness. "Let me know if you have any better ideas," he muttered, and strode back into the other room, rejoining his team of idiots. The wooden door that separated her from them didn't bother Chloe anymore. She welcomed the return of sanity the silence provided.

It was just so odd how reluctant everyone was being about bringing in the tanks and just solving the problem right them and there. A protesting crowd had formed outside the office window, and were holding up signs that read, "Give Peace Talks a Chance". According to the national news, humans had attacked first, and, apparently, that upset many moralists and sent the government into frenzy. Now, everyone was suddenly _so_ sympathetic to the brutes.

In a way, she understood. Humans were obviously the more advanced out of the two, which also meant that they had the most responsibility to do the right thing. If the order was given to exterminate the creatures without first trying to achieve peace, well, it could pretty much be categorized under genocide.

Chloe stared blankly at the TV on the wall, where the first ever footage of the creatures had been repeating for a while now. Suddenly, the news channel cut to a live report on the scene of another attack. The pretty redheaded anchorwoman stood dutifully in the centre of the street, not even two hundred yards away from the raging beasts. Their fighting strategy reminded Chloe of how Godzilla had rampaged in that movie, pretty much attacking everything that stood in his way, including buildings.

The reporter's face was perfectly professional, but her nervous glances to the side suggested that she hadn't had any say in her position. "_We are Live on location at Main Street, a place that was, only yesterday, bustling with busy shoppers. Today, it is almost unrecognizable. As you can see behind me Jim, the street has been transformed into a war zone; pavement has been smashed into rubble, and gunmen are using the rooftops of many shopkeepers' buildings to hold off the enraged mob._"

Now the screen split in half, allowing newscaster Jim Anderson to also be viewed as he sat at his desk and faced the camera seriously. "_Tell us Kelsey, the viewers want to know, why haven't we been successful in staunching the threat? Why hasn't the government given the go ahead?_"

"_Well, first off, Jim, it appears that these creature's thick skins are more or less resistance to bullets. As for the government, they have denied all requests for more substantial weapons. Everything has been kept quiet, but many believe that they're attempting to find a diplomatic solution._"

As Kelsey was talking, one of the bovine creatures had crept closer, a look of intrigue on its furry face. It tilted its head as the reporter continued, its expression no longer murderous.

Chloe's eyes widened, and she leaned anxiously towards the screen. _What's it doing, _she wondered. Suddenly Cowface jumped into the shot, trying to grab the poor reporter's microphone. Kelsey ducked and ran somewhere behind the camera. The cameraman backed off too, but made sure to keep the broadcast rolling.

"_Humans_," the cow began urgently, it's voice surprisingly female. "_You look like our enemy, although you are not. Our coming here was a mistake, but you must convince our commander yourselves. We will attack here again tomorrow, at the setting of the sun. Please, heed my warning. Bring your Warchief, and prepare to commune._"

Then the camera whirled, getting some interesting footage of the cement road as the cameraman ran away from the scene. A few seconds later, the motion stopped, and the camera was trained back on a very flustered Kelsey. She pushed the bangs from her face and drew a deep breath; donning her best "I'm totally in control right now," smile.

"_I hope you got that Jim_," she breathed. The screen split again to show Jim's hanging jaw and bulging eyes. She quirked her eyebrow and finished dramatically, "_Looks like we've just found that diplomatic solution. Kelsey Bingley, CTV News._"

This was about the point in which Chloe decided that the world was just too freaking weird. She turned off the TV and sat on the couch, trying to figure out what had just happened.

After awhile her father walked in, looking just as dazed and confused as she felt.

"You saw the footage too," she guessed. He just nodded and sat behind his desk. "Please tell me you've abandoned the sacrifice idea." He nodded again. They sat in silence until Chloe asked in a small voice, "What's the plan then?"

"We meet the creatures, we bring weapons, and we try to figure out what they want," he told her tiredly, rubbing his temples.

"You're winging it," she guessed again, watching the weariness in his brown eyes.

"Yes," he grunted. "And no, you cannot come."


	3. The Cake is a Lie

**The Cake is a Lie**

The General found Ambassador Tyler on the top floor of one of the abandoned buildings. He had set up a makeshift conference table in the centre of the room, which at the moment was occupied with many serious looking politicians. The General decided that it was best not to interrupt them and stood patiently in the doorframe.

It took a second for Jeffrey to notice the General amongst the arguing, but when he did, he quickly excused himself and walked out of the room, meeting him down the hall.

"Ambassador," the General began. "All entrances to this street have been barricaded." Under his controlled military guise, he couldn't help but notice how haggard the ambassador looked.

"Good. And – uh, the media?"

"Still clueless."

Relief eased the tenseness of Jeffrey's shoulders. "No camera crews?"

"None have been allowed access." The ambassador nodded approvingly.

"Very well. The government has finally authorized our requests. We give them a ten second warning, if they do not back down, kill them all."

"Understood."

"Good luck, General." And with that, Ambassador Tyler retired back to the conference room, sitting straighter in his chair than he had before, looking less guilty.

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh, we're not going to kill them, honey,<em>" Chloe hissed sarcastically under her breath, mimicking her father's soothing tones. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, and her foot stomped the gas pedal. "There's _always_ going to be a happy ending for my little girl, because we live in a _freaking fairytale_!"

Her father's lies, although frequent, were never really that great in quality. She should have suspected something was off as soon as he said "sacrifice."

But what really made her mad was how much she wanted to believe him – so badly that she ignored the signs. He had never told her anything that he thought she couldn't handle, anything that might shatter the (nonexistent, by the way) innocence of his child. Why would he suddenly start sharing the brutal reality with her now? Her only comfort was that, this time, she wasn't the only one. This time, his lie had been believed by the whole world.

She thought back to _the Crucible_ novel study that she had to do in high school – based on a true story – and Chloe decided that this situation wasn't much different from that plot: The Church decided that Salem had an infestation of witches, and convinced everyone in the town to burn their own neighbours and family members. They did it. Why? Because they never thought to question authority.

And the Jonestown mass suicide, where cult members freely drank Kool-Aid mixed with cyanide because _their leader_ told them they had to die on their own terms…how ironic was that? So, it all came down to a lack of critical thinking, and Chloe had had a lapse of that long enough to be late for the "peace meeting".

She had actually thought about going to the movies with her friends, leaving her father to his own business. _Yeah, like that would ever happen_, she thought. So instead she changed into dark clothes, braided back her long, auburn hair, and grabbed her video camera. She wouldn't be able to stop the killing, but at least she could let everyone know the truth, and expose the lie for what it was.

The speedometer on the dash told her that she was going 120 mph, but the clock's red numbers flashed 8:30, and that setting sun wasn't stopping for anyone. She floored it. The road was empty – why would anyone _want_ to drive into a war zone – so she wasn't really worried about getting any tickets.

When she saw the police barricade up ahead, she swerved and parked down one of the side streets. This was going to be the tough part. Before getting out, Chloe dug around in the glove department for her emergency Swiss Army knife, and quickly slipped it inside her pocket. Just in case.

It looked like only the roads had been blocked off, so Chloe snuck into someone's backyard and hopped the fence. After crossing multiple yards, she scaled a wooden fence and landed conveniently behind a garbage dumpster.

_Eat your heart out, James Bond. _

Pulse racing, she peeked around the corner of the alleyway, and shrank back almost immediately. The creatures had already stationed themselves at the top of the hill, about a block away from her hiding place.

And there were definitely more than fifty.

As they had yesterday, the soldiers had claimed the tops of the buildings, and where looking down the barrels of their guns at the opposing army. Chloe suddenly wondered if maybe they were going to go through with the negotiation after all.

But then she caught a glimpse at their faces. She saw the same blood thirst on their faces as those beasts had worn during the first attacks.

Humans had had enough with holding back. There would be no "_Welcome to Earth banner_" tonight, no "_Let's be friends cake_", just a good hard dose of "_Serve chilled revenge._"

Chloe pulled out her camcorder and pressed the record button.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Alright, explanation time! In the first chapters, I was trying to convey how debated and meticulously thought out the government has to be before they decide to do _anything._ Also, I find that they tend to sugar coat everything for us, and most likely even hide stuff from us. This is just the exaggerated example I thought up to make a point.**

**As for the orcs, I had to take certain creative liberties to make the story work (ie: their thick skin). But that is what fanfiction is: making changes to one story in order to make an entirely new one**


	4. Collateral Damage

**Collateral Damage**

From his position at the top of a street intersection, flanked by stony faced soldiers, Ambassador Jeffrey Tyler could see the opposing army try and assemble. He wasn't even sure if they could be called an army. Perhaps "angry mob" would be a better description. They weren't marching over the hill so much as they were lumbering heavily, shoulders ramming other shoulders and drawn weapons sliding against other drawn weapons as they tried to all fit into the narrow, building lined street. Horse sized wolves snapped at their heels and howled eerie warnings.

And the humanoid creatures were chanting in low, throaty voices, an occasional snarl ripping through the still, evening air. Ambassador Tyler felt his lip curl up in disgust. Western civilization hadn't been prepared for the brute force and mad chaotic-ness that these monsters could muster; the poor farming couple who had discovered them on their land had shot at them and shot at them and still their rage kept them coming. The creatures were gorillas – hulking, primal gorillas. Unstoppable in their rabid madness.

But even rabid madness could be cured with the right weapons. The ambassador felt as though he should be ashamed, but he wasn't. This was his world, his country, and he was hell bent to protect it, even at the cost of his daughter's respect.

Chloe wouldn't have to know though. In fact, nobody had to know – except his branch of government and the few soldiers with him now. Jeffrey felt his shoulders tense. He walked quickly towards one of the media barriers, and the man guarding it.

"Anyone try and get in yet," he ushered under his breath.

The man who he was speaking to wasn't a soldier. Jeffery had no idea his designation. "It's been really quiet, actually," the man said, brown eyes shifting. "I think we've kept a pretty good secret."

"Yes, well," Jeffery said offhandedly, clearing his throat. "Good. Keep your eyes peeled for anything else."

* * *

><p>Chloe had a front row seat to the action, hidden in an alleyway but literally sitting on the line that separated the two armies. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and for a long time, it was the only sound she could hear. She wanted to run away.<p>

"I grow tired of waiting," the leader of the creatures bellowed through sharp cuspids. Chloe thought that he had one nasty overbite, the bottom fangs curling up over his top lip, even while talking. His statement was met with a round of grunted agreements from his army. One of the green skinned creatures looked her way, its burgundy eyes drifting as though bored. She could tell that it was younger than the rest. For that reason, Chloe wanted to peak further around the corner, to let the creature know that she was here to document, not fight. She wanted to let it know that she didn't condone any of this, that she was neutral and concerned.

But that would be stupid.

On the other side of the line, she could see her father and his soldiers shift uncomfortably. Half the scene was hidden behind the alley wall. Her father was speaking, his mouth moving, but the sound was lost. Chloe worried that the creatures wouldn't hear his negotiation either – or rather, his warning – but from the outraged expressions on their faces, they must have got the message.

Chloe cursed under her breath. Why wasn't her video camera recording any sound? With a hasty glance towards the creatures, she started to tiptoe towards the other wall, still half crouched, where she would be openly visible. When she got to the corner, she sat down, back to the wall, and exhaled in relief. She stuck the camera around the edge again.

" – seconds for you to surrender and go back to where you came from," Chloe's father was saying. "or we will be forced to take extreme measures." It was just a meaningless speech. Chloe had a feeling that there were more soldiers in an ambush behind them too, to catch them on their way out. _We __couldn't have them running back for reinforcements, could we?_

"I am Garrosh Hellscream," the leader proclaimed. "And you insult the Horde if you think we can be threatened!" Angry shouts rang out from the creatures. They stomped their feet and raised their weapons higher into the air. The blades gleamed menacingly in the dying light of the sun.

Then a shot was fired and the creature beside Garrosh crumpled to the ground, a bullet in the forehead. Before the rest of the army could react, a torrent of bullets rained from the tops of the buildings, cutting down a whole row of the creatures. Chloe jumped to her feet, her hand shaking on the camera while trying to get a better angle. She turned her face away, feeling her eyes dampen. She couldn't run now, she had to get the proof, she had to get the evidence.

Now the creatures were scattering, some running for cover and the backstreets while others charged towards the front lines. "FIGHT," Garrosh was wailing. "COWARDS, STAND AND FIGHT!" How he hadn't gotten shot yet, Chloe didn't know. The leader lifted his chin as if daring the soldiers to do it. There was fear buried in his eyes though.

Chloe wanted to do something – anything – but she didn't know what. She watched her father's face, the cold, empathetic expression that was there, the deadness in his eyes as he looked on. Something had changed him. This man was no longer her father.

An unbidden sob ripped from Chloe's throat. Garrosh's head spun in her direction and he met her eyes, a cruel smile spreading across his face. Before Chloe could even think _uh oh, _the wolf that Garrosh was riding sprang in front of her, cornering her into the wall. Chloe tried to back up, but Garrosh grabbed her elbow, his whole hand wrapping around it easily. Then she was being lifted up off the ground. She kicked and squirmed, but Garrosh only held her higher above his head, his hands squeezing her ribcage. Then the wolf ran back out into the street, and Chloe was officially being used as a meat shield.

"STOP FIRING," Chloe's father screamed. The sound of gunshots slowly faded, but Chloe could still hear them in her head, a metronome that pounded in time with her panicked heartbeat. She couldn't think. Her mouth opened and closed with what might have been a cry for help, but the words never came out. _Is this a good thing_, her muddled brain wondered. _The fighting has stopped. Isn't this what I wan__ted? _

Chloe's camera was still recording. She found it easier to deal with the event while watching it from the view screen, as though it were a movie and wasn't actually happening to her. She concentrated on the screen only, because it was painful to look anywhere else.

"Give her back," someone commanded – not her father.

"She's leverage now," Garrosh said with relish. Chloe tried to kick him again, but he pushed her legs aside, as though shooing away a fly. The humans protested with angry shouts. Garrosh chuckled to himself, or maybe to Chloe, "Sentimental, aren't they?" Then to the rest of soldiers he barred his teeth and snarled, "Follow us and we kill the girl!"

The army of creatures growled more agreements, snorted laughter and then marched back up the hill, with Garrosh taking up the rear and holding Chloe above his head like a trophy.

"FOR THE HORDE!"

* * *

><p>High Overlord Saurfang was waiting anxiously by the portal when the Warsong Offensive returned. He could see their disappointment in the way they held their heads, the way their shoulders slumped slightly. Saurfang nodded knowingly at each as they dragged themselves through the swirling purple void, feeling somewhat smug. Yontar stepped out of the line and waited beside him, a guarded expression on his face.<p>

"That was embarrassing," he muttered at Saurfang from the corner of his mouth. "Inacceptable behaviour that was punished rapidly."

"How many dead?"

Yontar sighed and lifted his eyes to the dark sky. "Enough that we will have to take the matter to my father."

Suddenly a high pitched shrieking rose up over the crowd. Saurfang craned his neck in confusion, convinced that no member of the Warsong Offensive would ever make such a noise. "Oh, right," Yontar added dismally. "And there's that."

"LET ME GO," the voice screeched again, trying to sound commanding but only managing a shaking whine.

Garrosh Hellscream came into view, riding in on his wolf mount, an air about him as though he had personally won the battle. Tucked under his arm and squirming like a toddler was a human female. She beat her fists against his side and wailed hopelessly, displaying no dignity in capture. Saurfang felt Yontar cringe beside him. "She looks young, doesn't she?"

"You are only adding to my victory," Garrosh boasted, shaking her once. She let out a surprised sound but finally fell silent.

Then the female spoke in a venomous whisper, "Go quietly or go kicking and screaming; at least the second option makes it more difficult for you!" She started to scream again, straining against Garrosh's grip. Unfamiliar words sprouted from her lips, but her tone made it obvious that she was cursing him.

Saurfang walked towards them and stood in front of Hellscream's mount, forcing him to stop. "What have you done, Overlord?" he seethed.

Garrosh sneered, casting a glance down at his captive, "Evened the playing field."

"A playing field that shouldn't have even existed," Saurfang corrected. "What are you planning to do with her now?"

Hellscream simply shrugged. "Imprison her. Eat her. Let her wander around Durotar till she starves or runs into some quilboar. Drop her off in Ashenvale. Doesn't matter – " The human's protests grew louder until Garrosh snarled in frustration. With one quick motion, he drew the butt of his axe and struck the back of her neck, knocking her out. Her limb body sagged and Garrosh let her drop to the hard ground. "Send her to Thrall with regards – he does have a soft spot for humans." He stopped to chuckle to himself before raising his voice to a command, "YONTAR!"

The young orc, having heard most of the conversation, was already kneeling down beside the human, gathering her up in his arms with a poorly hidden expression of fury on his face. Saurfang balled his fists but remained silent as well. They marched into the portal without a word and rejoined the rest of the Warsong Offensive.

The sunlight in Azeroth was startling compared to the night that they had just stepped out from. The air was dry and dusty.

Durka had retrieved Yontar's mount for him, handing him the reins to his wolf. "Is the human dead," she wondered.

"Just unconscious," he murmured, swinging his leg over the saddle, trying not to jostle the human anymore than she already had been.

"That can be fixed," Durka growled, her top lip curling back. She was petit for an orc, her facial features small and delicate – but what she lacked in looks she made up for in fearsome piercings and sheer ferocity. She looked at the human and her blue eyes seemed to glow with blood thirst. Any male would be lucky to have her, Yontar decided. He barred his teeth at her in a menacing smile.

"Back to Northrend," Garrosh commanded. He pulled his wolf beside Yontar's and smirked, "Except for you, son of Thrall. You've a package to deliver." He grunted out another laugh. "How proud your father will be!"


	5. The Barrens: Part I

**The Barrens: Part I**

Chloe dreamed of magic. She dreamed that she was yielding a glowing purple dagger, the blade of which she knew that she should not touch, because something horrible would happen. Her father was beside her, dark and looming, whispering advice to her. He grabbed a hold of her shoulders, frustrated that she wasn't listening. But Chloe didn't have to listen, the blade was held in front of her face, bathing her eyes in purple. It told her of another option. It told her to escape.

All she had to do was use it.

Then she was pulled violently into another dream. Next, she dreamed of a purple, swirling haze and of an orange land beyond. She could feel a constant heat pouring into her subconscious, and the deep murmurs of monsters. Somewhere, a crow's shriek shattered the strange calm.

The screams wrenched her awake and Chloe's eyes flew open. It was bright, too bright. Her eyes blinked against the white wall in front of her until she realized she was looking up at the sky. There was a deep and throbbing ache in her skull. Her hands were bound and her body was sprawled, draped over the back of an animal. It was too fluffy to be a horse.

Shadows fluttered above her. A feather brushed her face, then vanished.

Another scream split the air. Not a scream, she realized, a squawk. Suddenly, glowing, furious eyes appeared in her vision. Claws raked her face, and Chloe knew she had to move or die.

An enraged battle cry sounded from her right, very close to her, and Chloe jumped from the animal's back just as a muscled arm appeared, slashing at the attackers. Once her feet touched the hot ground, she spun around, knees bent, hands tied together but held ready to either run or brace for a fight. What she saw only surprised her for a second.

One of the green humanoid monsters was hacking at a pack of winged ladies from astride a giant grey wolf. They were clearly fighting over her, and before Chloe could have time to plan how she would fight off the winner, one of the flying creatures screamed again, and dove at her with it's claws. She dodged the attack, flinching back from the outstretched talons. Warm liquid seeped down from her cheek from where the claws had found purchase.

Chloe cried out, and in a completely instinctive move, reached up and dug her combined fists into the creature's wings, pulling as many feathers as she could grip. While she pulled, the bird creature lost air, and flapped laboriously, struggling to stay in flight.

Chloe may not have claws, but she had a teenage girl's short temper and a lower center of gravity.

She wrestled the creature to the ground, where it hissed and writhed as Chloe stepped on it's wing. "What the hell did I ever do to you?" she puffed at it, trying to hide her panicked heartbeat with anger.

The creature let out an earsplitting screech, eyes widening with fear. Looking at the creature, all of Chloe's desperate aggression drained and was replaced with pity and guilt. Should she kill it? She was certain that the creature's wing was broken now, as it crunched under her foot. How long would it survive on the ground anyways?

She felt the gaze of the other monster behind her, quietly watching her. The other bird creatures were silent – dead probably.

Suddenly, the brute was beside her, breaking the ropes around her hands with a swift slice of a blade. Dazed, Chloe rubbed her wrists, stealing herself to look up at the face of her captor. It was the young one, she realized, his mouth not yet pulled into a grimace by thick tusks, just pointed fangs. His burgundy eyes met hers, and he offered her a blood slicked blade. A bulky, two handed weapon. Chloe flinched away from it, not able to look at either the monstrous blade or the monster that yielded it.

"Finish what you started," he rumbled. His voice wasn't unkind, but it wasn't sincere either. It was merely an unemotional statement, and that seemed to make it worse. With shaking hands, she grabbed the hilt, and immediately stumbled from its weight. The blade crashed into the dirt, and Chloe was glad her toes weren't in the way.

With a deep, calming breath, she looked up into his face again, trying not to cringe at what she saw there. "It's too heavy," she whispered, her voice barely working.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled, his bare, muscled chest rising menacingly. "Then you will step on its neck."

"I can't." Chloe looked down, bracing for the outburst of anger she was sure would come her way.

Instead, there was a long pause. Finally, his rolling voice reverberated through the ground again. "You must," he grunted.

The monster offered her another weapon – this time a cruel looking dagger – and reached over to snatch the two handed sword away. "You must," he repeated, looking her hard in the eye.

Chloe took the dagger. She wasn't a murderer. She was only the frightened daughter of a military ambassador. She couldn't take a life, even if it had tried to take hers. She wasn't a murderer.

But Chloe took up the dagger, trying to find the will in her to obey. She had a feeling that he would kill her if she didn't. She moved the blade to the bird-lady's throat, and held it there, not able to complete the movement. Her hand shook. She tried again and again to move to break the flesh, to bury the blade into its neck until it found hot, bright red blood.

The bird creature closed its eyes and breathed one last breath of sweet, dessert air.

Chloe couldn't do it. Angry tears welled in her eyes, and she decided that if she were to die, at least it would be for something. She would die without compromised morals.

She wouldn't die a murderer. .

The bird creature opened its eyes hesitantly, surprised that it was still alive. A wild, fervent hope shone in those eyes, pleading with Chloe to have mercy.

Then, without warning, the monster grabbed Chloe's arm and in one quick motion, forced Chloe's blade across the bird lady's throat. She watched, horrified as a line of red appeared, opening the bird lady up and then spraying her face with red tears.

It was over quickly, and as soon as the monster loosened his grip, Chloe broke away, screaming in pain and panic. She had only one thought, and that was to get as far away from the grotesque sight as possible. As she wailed and crawled blindly backwards through the orange dirt, she realized that she was still clutching the blade. She threw it away from her and curled up on the ground, the sobs racking her whole body as she cried as she never had before.

She was eighteen years old, and she was a murderer.

Somewhere in her mad mourning, she was aware of the monster lifting her onto the back of the wolf again. She struggled with the only strength she had left, but it wasn't enough and left her exhausted. In one last attempt at self-preservation, her hand fumbled in the dirt for the dagger

"You did well," she heard him rumble.

"Kill me," she spat at him.

"That would be merciful, yes."

* * *

><p>Yontar was at his wit's end with the human hostage. He was grateful that she had passed out shortly after the harpy attack, but even in sleep, she wouldn't surrender his dagger. She clutched it to her chest like it could ward off the bad memories.<p>

He was torn with how to deal with her. She had to learn how to survive in Orgrimmar before the rest of Horde got their hands on her, but she was unbelievably fragile, even for a human. He refused to pity the girl. She couldn't afford such kindness here. She had to expect abuse and prosecution, for surely she would be prosecuted like no other.

Garrosh had ordered this task of him as punishment for his father's lack of cruelty to the Alliance. What his father saw – and for all intents and purposes, what Yontar also saw – that Gorrosh did not was the separation of individuals from their factions. This human was no enemy of the Horde, and yet, because she was a human, her very existence posed a personal threat to Gorrosh Hellscream, and in association, to the Horde.

"What will the future bring, Cuan?" he wondered out loud. At the sound of his name, the wolf's ears twitched back, listening intently to its rider. "You probably know more than I at this point."

The wolf snarled in response. Yontar snarled back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: It's pretty much been a year since I've even logged in, and for that, I am deeply sorry. But the need to write has struck again and here I am! I hope you've enjoyed the story so far, and I promise more updates soon.  
><strong>


	6. The Barrens: Part II

**The Barrens: Part II**

On the third night, Yontar reluctantly made camp. Cuan was exhausted and bad tempered, snapping at passing animals and picking pointless fights with weaker creatures. At least they had enough meat now for supper. Yontar made a fire, sitting hunched over the flames, watching the tongues of fire lick the spit he held above it. Cuan was snoring beside him, his stomach rising and falling heavily.

Yontar felt eyes on his back. He turned and met the wide eyed gaze of his human prisoner, who was curled up on the ground. Startled, she looked away, gasping involuntarily. Since the harpy attack, he hadn't bothered binding her hands. She wouldn't be able to use her weapon anyway, and if she ran, she'd be dead. Yontar curled his lip in disdain, rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, her voice mingled with the crackling fire, sounding determined. "Where are you taking me?"

"To my father."

She was silent for a while. "Why?"

"He is War Chief."

"And I'm a prisoner of war, I suppose."

Yontar almost smirked at her idiocy. "How did you guess?"

"The kidnapping thing sort of gave it away."

Feeling annoyed, Yontar wished the human would stop talking to him. He grunted, turning his attention back to cooking the meat. His hollow stomach did nothing to improve his mood.

Then, the unmistakable sensation of cold metal touched his throat. Yontar froze as the human's arms encircled him in a headlock, holding his own dagger to his neck.

"What's going to happen?" she demanded. "Tell me what they're going to do to me!" Her thin arms around his shoulders were weak, as though she were embracing him rather than imprisoning him. He knew he could break out easily.

Behind him, Cuan's menacing snarls ripped through the air. This time, it was the human's turn to freeze. "That was foolish, human," he told at her. "My wolf will tear you to pieces."

He could feel her shaking. The blade inched away from his throat.

That was all he needed. With one easy movement, he spun around and had the the human on the ground, his huge hands pinning her shoulders. "I'll take my dagger back now," he rumbled, holding his face above hers. His tusks were inches from her jugular.

"Right," she whispered vehemently. "You'll only let me keep it on the condition I don't use it."

He straightened, shifting his arm so that his elbow was resting on her throat. With the other hand, he forced the weapon from her grip. "I don't like being threatened with my own blade."

She held onto the dagger with surprising strength, the reflection from the fire flickering in her eyes, "And I don't like being a prisoner of war. Seems we are both out of luck."

Yontar snorted. Orcs were raised to appreciate courage, even if it came from their enemies. A shred of admiration bloomed in his chest. He inspected her face, his eyes raking over the stubborn expression there. "You are not a coward after all. That is good." He lifted himself from her, standing to his full height.

The human followed his lead, jumping to her feet in suspicion. She held the blade in front of her, pointed at him. "I wish I could say the same about you, picking on innocent little girls."

Yontar snorted again, almost smiling. "Don't make me bind your hands," he said dismissively, tearing off a chunk of meat and tossing it at her. She caught it, her eyes burning with hunger, shoving it into her mouth without question.

Then, as though embarrassed for her actions, she lifted her chin and turned back to her sleeping spot. Yontar shared the rest of the meat with Cuan, as they ate listening to the human girl's sobs.

* * *

><p>Chloe couldn't believe the change she'd seen in herself over those few days wondering across the barren dessert landscape. Her heart burned with a hatred she hadn't thought she was capable of. Maybe that was just the emptiness in her stomach. It was all a dull burning, as though her whole being was glowing with a combination of hunger and resentment.<p>

The monster made sure to feed her, but she refused to take any of his food, so it all went to the damn wolf of his. During the deep pangs in her gut, she thought of Gandhi and his hunger strikes. Surely if he could do it, then she could. The thought gave her strength.

She also remembered wryly about how she always wanted to loose a few pounds.

In the beginning, she longed for conversation, even if it was with the likes of such a cruel brute. Now, however, she spend the time traveling in a thick silence.

These were her tactics of protest.

On their last day of travel, Chloe had taken to riding behind him on the saddle instead of dangling from the wolf's back like some sort of trophy kill. The brute had a tendency to always look deep in thought, as though refusing to acknowledge Chloe's tense presence. But while they crossed a bridge over a deep cavern, he cleared his throat and said suddenly, "What is your name?"

_What does it matter to you?_ she thought, but remained silent.

"I am Yontor, Son of Thrall," he continued.

_Good for you._

"Just so you don't have to keep referring to me as Brute."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Chloe laughed. She couldn't help it, the sound just escaped, taking some pent up stress with it. "How do you know I call you a brute?" she blurted, accidentally breaking her silence.

"Most humans do."

Chloe raised her chin. "Well," she said after a long pause. "It was either that or Hulk."

This time it was Yontar who laughed, if not a bit bleakly. "If you wish, I can call you Venom Tongue."

"Chloe," she muttered, noting that Yontar grouped sarcasm with venom. "My name is Chloe."

In the distanced loomed a giant, orange walled fortress. Two towers rose from either side, flying a violent looking red sigil. The wolf seemed energized by the sight, increasing his speed for the journey home.

"Prepare yourself Chloe," Yontar advised. "What happens next is a mystery."


End file.
